


Behind the Curtains

by khalexx



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (and Dean too), Accidental Kissing, Crack, Curtain Fic, Domestic Bliss, Feelings, First Kiss, First Time, Frottage, Happy Ending, Humor, M/M, Making Out, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, Oblivious Sam Winchester, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-20 14:15:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13148379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khalexx/pseuds/khalexx
Summary: With the FBI chasing after them, the boys have no choice but to to lay low for a while and the best way to do it seems to be settling down in a sleepy town in the middle of Iowa. Obviously. Oh and all their neighbors think they're a couple.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written in the [spn-j2-xmas](https://spn-j2-xmas.livejournal.com) exhange for [deansbeerbottle](http://deansbeerbottle.tumblr.com) who wanted domestic Sam & Dean but mainly wanted to be surprised.  
> Hope you like it.
> 
> Enjoy!

You see, the problem with the FBI and police in general is, that they aren’t actually stupid and _can_ put two and two together. In the most inconvenient way.

But as Bobby had pointed out when they had been hiding back at his place, the Winchesters turning up to investigate every time weird, unexplainable killings happened, was bound to register with the police sooner or later. Sadly, the fact that the killings actually _stopped_ after the Winchesters had left, only served to make the whole thing much more suspicious.

So having put said two and two together, the FBI had started looking for weird patterns in the killings occurring all over the continent, trying to follow what was apparently supposed to be the Winchester’s MO. Since lots of the cases the boys did hadn’t even registered on the police’s radar, it took them a while to realize what had been going on. Which was why the case in Minnesota had turned out to be such a clusterfuck.

When a little group of tourists had discovered two mauled, heartless bodies in the Pine Island National Forest in Minnesota, it had been written off as an animal attack. When Sam and Dean had showed up disguised as members of the FBI to investigate the accident, people were a bit unsettled but no-one really paid them much mind. To the great surprise of everyone involved, a few hours later a much bigger group of FBI agents arrived with a clear intention to arrest the two investigators.

They had been lucky enough to escape and make it to Bobby mostly unscratched, but there was no way they could continue hunting as they used to when ‘ _there’s your ugly mugshot on the wall of every bigger police station all over the states,’_ as Bobby so eloquently put it.

“Look, I ain’t sayin’ you two have to stop hunting altogether, but it won’t hurt to lie low for a while,” he’d said as he’d handed them both a bottle of beer from the fridge. They all had been seated behind his kitchen table. Sam had took his beer bottle and turned it in his hand, picking at the label with his thumb. He’d known Bobby had been right. The thing was, he hadn’t been so sure Dean was going to see it that way. He had just seemed to get over Sam’s leaving for Stanford and then there was the still sore wound caused by their father’s death.

“You can do research and pass the hunts on some other hunter but anything more risky than that and the FBI’s on your tail faster than you can spin around. And the next time it happens, you two might not be as lucky as you were now.”

The proposal had been met with Dean’s less than amused stare. Sam had sighed and continued picking at the label on his bottle.

“So what now?” Dean had asked, irritated. “You want us to stay here and wait until the police gets tired of chasing after us?” He had waved his hands around his head in attempt to empathize his disbelief. “It’ll take months! We’ll go mad in a few weeks and the crazy sonuvabitches can just go on killing innocent people?”

“Look boy, contrary to what the two of you idjits might believe, there _are_ other hunters in the states capable of doing their job.” The old hunter had fixed his stare on Dean who had glanced away, slight blush creeping up his neck.

“You know that’s not what I –“

“I damn well know that’s not what you meant. But it doesn’t mean that I ain’t right, too. You two won’t be any good to nobody if you’re locked up in a prison somewhere. And I’m nowhere rich enough to bail you two out,” he had grumbled. “Look, just think about it, all right? But it won’t hurt you any if you decided to do the sensible thing for a change.”

With those words, Bobby had gotten up from the table and walked out of the kitchen, leaving the two brothers alone.

Sam had glanced up from his beer and shrugged. “You know he’s right, Dean.”

“Not you too, Sammy,” Dean had groaned and looked at his brother with a betrayed look. “We’ll go crazy if we’re just holed up in some bumfuck, nowhere, twiddling our thumbs.”

“No, listen. This isn’t such a bad idea. It’s not like it would be permanent,” Sam had said earnestly. “We could both get jobs, save up a bit of money and when this thing with the FBI blows over, we can continue hunting like we used to,” he threw a hopeful look at Dean.

“Yeah sure, college boy. You’re just glad to be outta the game.” Dean had smirked but his tone was too flat for it to sound like a joke. Sam’s eyes had softened.

“No, Dean. Just _no_. I’ve said I’m in this with you. I don’t _want_ to quit hunting. But I don’t want to end up in a prison either. It’ll be just for a little while. You know we can use the break,” he’d added, voice sincere.

-

Dean used to say that bigger men had succumbed to Sammy’s puppy dog eyes, and he was not a bigger man.

Which was how, a week later, they had found themselves on their way to some godforsaken town where one of Bobby’s old acquaintances promised to hook them up and help them keep a low profile for a while.

Convincing Dean to leave the Impala behind had turned out to be much trickier than convincing him to temporarily quit hunting, but in the end even Dean had been forced to admit that their car was a bit of a giveaway. And it had been either leaving his baby behind at Bobby’s or having to repaint her. When Sam had suggested the latter, Dean had turned on him with a look of pure horror in his eyes and smacked him over the head, murmuring something strongly resembling ‘ _over my dead body’_.

They’d taken a slightly beaten up 1979 Cadillac from Bobby’s salvage yard which was the only car available that Dean had even considered driving.

They’d also agreed that they wouldn’t pose as brothers, what with the police still searching for them. Sure, splitting up would be the easiest way to avoid as much suspicion as possible, but neither of them even thought about suggesting that. So, long-term friends it was. Sam was not all that sure that this cover story would actually hold up, but he was too glad Dean had agreed to go with him relatively easily to trying to voice his concerns.

The day before they had left, Bobby had presented them with a brand new fake IDs along with health insurances and a joint bank account, grumbling about making sure that they did not get into trouble while in hiding.

Dean’s face had been scrunched in a frown as he had eyed their new identities, arguing that ‘ _it sure looks a bit permanent, don’tcha think, Sammy?’_

But here they were, in the middle of Iowa, in a town within a driving distance from Sioux City.

Bobby’s friend was a huge bear-resembling man with a long dark brown hair that had already had a few silver strands in it, and a matching beard. He was about as tall as Sam was but considerably larger. Clad in a black leather jacket, he looked a bit like an aging member of a motorbike gang. He introduced himself as David Robinson, just-call-me-Dave. He was loud and laughed a full-belly-laugh and Dean seemed to take an immediate liking to him. Sam thought that with someone like Dave around, they surely wouldn’t stick out all that much.

“So, ol’ Bobby called me and asked for a bit of a favor for the two of ya. My sister’s renting this one house just around the corner… Price’s pretty reasonable too… Bobby says you two could use stayin’ around for a while… Cause no trouble and no one’s gonna bother you here,” he paused to glance at the two of them before continuing to walk down the street. “If you boys would follow me, it’s just a few minutes…”

It was an early afternoon and the streets were quiet and sleepy as they walked alongside Mr. Robinson. It was the middle of the September and Sam had a fleeting thought that all the kids were probably still at school.

“And here we are!” announced Mr. Robinson when they stopped in front of one of the houses two streets away.

The house he showed them was a bit on the smaller side compared with the ones they had passed on their way, but it was more than big enough for the two of them. It was a two-story building complete with a backyard, a short gravel driveway and a gray picket fence.

“At least it’s not white,” murmured Sam when Dean regarded him with an accusing look, as if the picket fence surrounding the house was somehow Sam’s fault.

The exterior of the house was painted in a faded yellow-ish color. It did seem a bit old and rusty but all in all, they both had been used to staying in places much, much worse.

And besides, they weren’t looking for anything long-term, Sam reminded himself.

“Lemme show you boys around…” said the older man as he was unlocking the front door. He motioned for them to step inside.

The interior was a lot nicer than Sam had expected when he’d seen the house from the outside. The first floor consisted of a wooden kitchen and a living room painted in warm colors. The floor in the living room was covered in thick carpet that might have had a bright red color a few decades ago. There was no television in there, but the sofa and the two armchairs arranged around a small coffee table looked pretty comfortable. On the second floor was a bedroom with an en suite bathroom on one side and a guest room on the other side of the hall.

It all looked pretty nice, Sam thought. Not that they had any other options but to take the house even if it had been falling apart, but right now Sam was kind of looking forward to living there for a while.


	2. Chapter 2

The story went that a few hours after meeting up with Mr. David Robinson, Dean Montgomery and Samuel Taylor became official homeowners of a small two-story house David's sister was renting out.

It was… surprisingly nice. Sam would never admit it out loud, because Dean had always got this weird faraway look on his face whenever Sam had mentioned it in the past, but he kind of missed settling down for a bit, catching his breath. When they were younger, their dad had used to drag them from town to town, changing states every other month or so, but despite how much Sam had always complained about their frequent moving, there were usually some months-long breaks in-between.

But ever since Dean had picked Sam up from Stanford, they’d never stayed in one place for more than a few days or a little over a week on a few occasions. It was like Dean was too afraid that if they had stuck around just a bit longer, Sam might decide to stay there for good.

But now it was the both of them staying, renting a small rusty house and Sam couldn’t help the wave of warmth that settled in his belly whenever the thought crossed his mind.

Even their neighbors seemed like a nice people, all of them gradually showing up at their doorstep to meet them with housewarming gifts in their hands. Well, Sam had said they’d seemed nice. Dean had insisted they were freaking him out.

“Like a fucking Stepford Wives or something,” he mumbled, after the last couple who showed up to greet them left, and shook his head.

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you against our scary evil neighbors,” replyed Sam cheekily and ducked just in time to avoid Dean’s smack aimed at his head.

“No, but seriously. Did you see the look they gave us? They’re totally plotting how to murder us in our sleep or possibly turn us into some kind of freaky robots, I’m telling you, Sammy,” he insisted, waving his hands around to emphasize his point.

Sam rolled his eyes at him and twitched, feeling slightly uncomfortable. “I’m pretty sure they just thought we’re gay or something,” he mumbled.

Dean looked kind of offended.

“No, they didn’t,” he argued, but didn't sound so sure. “Why do people always think we’re gay, anyway? Do we give away some kind of gay vibes or what? Is it your girly hair? I’m always telling you to get a decent haircut.”

“Yeah, my girly hair and your pretty lips, I’m sure,” Sam replied, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “Dude, how many straight guys do you think live with each other, huh? They don’t know we’re brothers. This is just the assumption people usually make.”

“Then why the hell didn’t you tell them something if you knew what they were thinking? I’ll never get laid around here if people think I’m gay married to you!”

Sam was pretty they had bigger problems than Dean getting laid. Like the FBI that could show up to arrest them any moment despite all the precautions they took. He scowled at his brother.

“Gay guys living together, that’s totally normal, unless you’re dealing with some homophobic assholes,” he pointed out. “If we went around insisting that we’re just friends, people wouldn’t believe us anyway. Or they would think we’re some kind of weirdos. And what would I tell them, huh? _‘Hi, I’m Sam, this is Dean, we’re not the brothers the FBI’s looking for but we’re also not fucking, nice to meet you’_?”

“Well why the hell not?” shrugged Dean, probably just for the sake of saying something.

“Look,” Sam started, frustrated. He had no idea why he was actually arguing with his brother about it. “I don't think it would be so terrible if people thought we're together. The FBI isn’t looking for a couple, they’re looking for brothers, so no one’s gonna bother to come looking for us here. And it’s… not so bad, right?” he finished a bit awkwardly and cleared his throat, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

Dean stared at him for a while before apparently deciding to let it go. His lips twitched, forming a smirk.

“You sure make one hell of an argument, darlin’,” he drawled and Sam groaned, rolling his eyes again, but he couldn’t help smiling back.

-

After a few days, the both of them had settled into a comfortable routine without addressing what it was that they were actually doing. Neither of them felt really comfortable sleeping in a different room than the other, so they moved the bed from the quest room into the main bedroom and took turns sleeping in the bigger bed.

Every morning they would move around each other in the single bathroom and take turns showering. Dean was usually the one to make them breakfast and Sam got the grocery shopping duty which he actually didn’t mind all that much. The little grocery shop was about ten minutes’ walk from their temporary home and Sam went there every other morning, playing the nice, ordinary citizen and making small talk with the locals.

The people were curious but stayed polite and no one had been downright nosy. Besides, Sam had years of practice with deflecting personal questions without making people realize he had avoided answering them. He got a few questions about him and Dean as well, people asking him how long they have been together – to which he gleefully replied they _knew each other their whole lives._

After the novelty of a new addition to the neighborhood wore off, people seemed to forget all about them and moved onto another hot topic, accepting the brothers into their everyday lives.

 

Few days after they had settled in, Dean had found a job as a construction worker thanks to Mr. Robinson’s recommendation, helping with the new houses that were being built just outside the town. Sam had a feeling Dean took it just because the job seemed manly enough to repair the blow his masculinity apparently took by people assuming he’s gay for his brother, but refrained from saying so.

Dean finding a job left Sam alone in the house with nothing to do but cook and try to clean a bit which made him feel too much like some twisted version of a fifties housewife.

He eventually managed to find a job as a barista in a local café. It didn’t pay much and the hours were long, but he was used to working at cafés and restaurants from his time in college and didn’t really feel out of his depth. He even managed to synchronize most his off-days with Dean’s, which made Dean groan and call him a girl, but Sam had seen the smile playing on his brother’s lips when Dean thought he wasn’t looking.

Dean’s shift ended sooner and usually he got home long before Sam did, which meant there was a warm dinner waiting for him, while Dean hollered gleefully from the kitchen: “Welcome home, honey!”

The dinner usually consisted of warmed up frozen pizzas or take-outs from the near fast food but Dean did cook from time to time when he felt like it.

-

They managed to keep up their peaceful easy routine for over two months and it was starting to screw with Sam’s mind.

He didn’t really mind when the old lady from two streets over gave him homemade cookies 'for him and his _partner'_ as a thanks for mowing her garden. Or when they got free desert in the restaurant they sometimes stopped to eat at because the waitress thought they were _cute._

They even got offered free football tickets by the young couple living next door who had something more important come up at the last moment and didn’t want the tickets to go to waste. Sam had been about to decline when Dean had showed up, claiming that he’d always wanted to see a live football match (total lie – he didn’t watch football even when it was the only thing on the TV), but they accepted the tickets in the end. What could go wrong, anyway?

A lot, as it turned out.

The whole thing was an absolute flub. Dean had got bored of the match ten minutes in and decided to antagonize his brother instead. He also somehow came to the conclusion that playing into the boyfriend thing was a way to go. He slid his hand up Sam’s knee and palmed his inner thigh, cackling gleefully when Sam let out a totally manly yelp and spilled his coke onto the people sitting in front of them.

Sam had apologized profusely, embarrassed beyond belief and glared at his insane brother, promising horrible and painful revenge.

“Jesus Dean, start acting like an adult,” he hissed.

Ten minutes later, there was a hand sneaking under his shirt, fingers dancing over a spot where he had always been incredibly ticklish. Sam grit his teeth and forcibly removed Dean’s hand. The bastard didn’t even try to muffle his laugh.

“You’re so on,” Sam growled his famous last words that turned the football match into a kind of twisted game of gay chicken.

The next time Dean had tried to sneak his paws onto Sam’s body, he gripped Dean’s wrist and interlaced their fingers until they were basically holding hands. Few minutes later Dean tried to retaliate by attempting to lick Sam’s cheek. He turned towards Sam and made childish kissing faces before sticking out his tongue and leaning forward.

Sam did the only thing he could think of and turned to face him. This was obviously not so bright idea, seeing as he suddenly found himself with Dean’s tongue in his mouth.

It lied there, wet and unmoving and Sam resisted the urge to bite down just to make Dean jump up in his seat for a change.

Dean sat frozen in his place which would have been hilarious any other day but now he had his tongue _in Sam’s mouth_. Sam sighed inwardly before moving his own tongue alongside his brother’s in an attempt to push it out of his mouth.

It wasn't all that bad, Sam mused. Dean had a nice taste to him and smelled warm and familiar. He also finally began moving his tongue, although it was in the wrong direction, seeing as Sam had intended to get his tongue  _out_ , not further in. Dean seemed to be a bit slow on the uptake though, because he just wriggled his tongue some more and tangled it with Sam's and  _whoa_ , that was not a bad feeling at all.

There was the sound of catcalls and whistling behind them and Sam suddenly remembered where they were and what it probably looked like. It managed to unfreeze Dean as well because he finally came to himself and pushed Sam away – which, unfair. Sam was the one trying to push Dean out of his mouth for a while now, so his brother didn’t have to be staring at him like a deer in headlights when it was all his fault in the first place.

Dean didn’t seem to get the memo though, because he continued staring at Sam with his mouth parted, eyes completely wide.

_Well, fuck._


	3. Chapter 3

The football incident, as Sam referred to it in his mind, hadn’t actually changed anything between them. They spent the rest of the game sitting next to each other in a complete silence, acutely aware of each other’s presence.

From then on, Dean seemed to develop a case of a selective amnesia, not that Sam had actually tried to talk to him about it.

He was not even sure whether there _was_ something to be talked about. They only almost kissed _once_ and it had been basically a prank turned accident.

Besides, it wasn’t like Dean had actually shown any interest in a repeat performance...

Only now Sam couldn’t get it out of his mind. There were so many things he had never noticed about his brother before, despite knowing him all his life.

Take Dean’s ass, for example. Sure, Sam had always known it had been there, but now he really paid attention to it. Like whenever Dean had turned around or bent over (and he was certainly doing that a lot) and Sam’s eyes were immediately drawn to him.

Sam had also developed a weird fixation on Dean’s lips that always seemed to be occupied in some way.

_Did he even realize what he was doing?_

Because there were only so many times he could watch his brother all but fellate his beer bottle before he started imagining those lips wrapped around something else. So basically, Sam had a mental fixation on Dean’s oral fixation. (Was that even a thing?) Also, he was probably going crazy.

He had a little freak out about the gay incest thing the first few days after discovering his new obsession, but then he figured there were bigger things to be worried about. Things like the fact that the both of them were on the FBI’s most wanted list and hunted monsters for a living. Because monsters were _real_. What was a little bit of incestuous make-out session when compared with that? It’s not like they would be hurting anyone... You know, after Sam figured out how to bring it up… on… with Dean, that is.

He was pretty sure he was not the only one in this. He’d known Dean since forever. He had watched him all his life, only now he started _looking –_ and sometimes his brother looked right back. There was also the time when he came out of the shower with only a towel wrapped around his hips and Dean had totally checked him out.

But it was one thing to be fairly sure your brother wants to play tonsil hockey with you. Actually asking him about it was a completely different subject.

And since he had no intention to lose his private parts or be called a girl for the rest of his life, he needed a plan.

He didn’t think a _‘Wanna make out? Circle Yes or No’_ note would suffice.

But he we _trying_ , jesus.

 

 

His nonexistent plan all but flew out of the window the very next day. Sam came home from work to find Dean in the kitchen, cooking dinner. Dean turned around when he heard him come in. He had a huge smile on his face and Sam thought _fuck it_. He took the few steps that were still separating them grabbed Dean’s face into his hands before smacking his mouth onto Dean’s.

There was a terrifying moment of stillness when he thought he read it all wrong. But then Dean came alive in his hands and kissed him right back, murmuring _fucking finally_ under his breath.

They necked for a while, with Sam's hands roamimg all over Dean just because he _could_.  Had he known it would feel so good, he would have tried it long time ago.

“What do you mean, ‘finally’?” asked Sam few mimutes later, after they drew apart. His mouth felt kind of swollen and Dean was sporting a nice hickey just under his jaw. He was still leaning against the kitchen counter where Sam had pushed him moments ago.

“Well I already did the first step so now it was your turn to do something about it. I was beginning to think it’s never gonna happen,” he said and brought up his hands to rest them on Sam’s hips. Sam let himself be pulled back into the V of his legs.

“First step? What first step?” he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “You don’t mean at the stadium do you? Because _that_ was not a first step. That was a damn traumatizing accident and you know it, Dean.” Dean threw him an offended look.

“Didn’t hear you complaining,” he said, leaning in to steal a quick kiss. He was actually a really good kisser when he put his mind to it. It was much better than his performance two weeks ago. “Less fighting, more making out,” he suggested.

Sam gave him another kiss and chuckled. “You know, you’ve been driving me crazy the last few weeks. Were you doing it on purpose?”

Dean just shrugged and smirked. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Sam leant in again, to show him that it really had. He bit at his ear and Dean tilted his head to the side, exposing his neck for Sam to explore. He bit Dean there too, just slightly, before licking the tender spot. There was a stubble scratching his skin. It was a bit weird but not bad at all - he could easily get used to it.

He continued kissing Dean’s neck and smiled to himself when he felt him shudder. Dean trailed his hands up and down Sam’s spine, before gripping his hips once again, pushing them forward to meet his own. And _whoa_ , somebody was happy to see him.

They fumbled around a bit, trying to find a way to get out of their pants without letting go of each other. It was a little awkward and all kinds of hilarious and reminded Sam of his high school years when he was still figuring out how to get past the second base.

Dean’s hands slid under his boxers and grabbed his ass. Sam felt goosebumps rise on his skin and let out a shuddering breath.

“Dean,” he whispered and it sounded more like a groan. He managed to unfasten Dean’s belt, but then he suddenly started to feel nervous.

Dean must have sensed something, because he smoothed his hands over Sam's ass, and gave him a small smile.

“Sam,” he said and he sounded just as nervous as Sam felt, which actually made him feel a lot better.

Things became heated afterwards. Dean slid his hands to the front of Sam’s pants, fingers skimming over his dick, and Sam had to grab the counter behind Dean so that he wouldn’t fall over. He was so turned on it almost hurt.

His response made Dean bolder, because he took Sam’s dick into his hand, giving an experimental tug. Sam groaned and thrust his hips forward, seeking more friction. He rested his forehead against Dean’s, trying to catch his breath as Dean continued fisting his cock in his hand. The angle was awkward and there wasn’t much room for movement, but Sam didn’t mind.

They went on rubbing against each other, with Dean grinding his groin against Sam’s hip and jerking his cock. Sam found Dean’s mouth with his again, he bit his lip and they kissed, breathing each other’s air.

It was over ridiculously quickly. Sam felt himself going rigid, his whole body shuddering as he came, eyes rolling back. Dean continued grinding against him before he froze, letting out a single groan as he came.

They stayed like this, leaning on each other and against the kitchen counter and breathing heavily.

“So… that was…”

“Awesome?” offered Dean.

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “Also kind of quick.”

“We just have to practice some more to have better stamina,” Dean smirked and honest to god winked.

Yes, Sam thought. He guessed they did.

 

 

 

\- Fin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback always appreciated!


End file.
